


Say I'm caught up in a dream

by Tate_The_Great



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Arriving on Sorgan, Character Study, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/F, Insecure!Corin, Jealousy, Jumping to Conclusions, M/M, Miscommunication, Post Family and Home, Pre Hidden and Revealed, Secrets, but NOT the fun kind, what happened during the time skip?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:08:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23795899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tate_The_Great/pseuds/Tate_The_Great
Summary: The worst part is not the way she takes care of the kid better than he ever could. Or the way she sets a plate aside for Din without being asked. Or the way she is slowly taking Corin’s place.The worst part is that Corin never stood a chance.--------In chapter 1 of Hidden and Revealed, the gang finds themselves returning to Sorgan. We never see it, but how exactly did Corin react to meeting Omera for the first time?
Relationships: Background Cara Dune/Omera (Star Wars), Corin the Stormtrooper (Rescue and Regret)/The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Comments: 27
Kudos: 208





	Say I'm caught up in a dream

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyIrina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyIrina/gifts).



> Uhh this whole story works on the assumption that episode 4 of the Mandalorian actually happened even though it technically doesn't in the Lady's timeline. So just... work with me here. I had this planned out before Ch 1 of Hidden and Revealed but turns out that it fit perfectly in the time skip so yay! 
> 
> This is a plotless self indulgent character study. Also, it's actually a lot less angsty than I had planned, so you're welcome? Here's uhh this mess.
> 
> (ps the title is from Avicii Wake Me Up)

Life. The planet is completely covered in it. Green and blooming. Forests, like a tsunami of green, climb up the sides of mountains and crawl across wide expanses of land until it reaches the coast. As they fly over in a low orbit, Corin can’t take his eyes away from the window. 

He’s never seen a planet so… untouched. The sparse scattering of civilizations are nothing more than a collection of wood huts with dirt paths connecting them. The only visible imprint they make from the atmosphere is a web of trade routes that cut a thin line in the cover of trees. They’re veins bringing life into the town centers. 

Corin nudges the sleepy child up a little higher on his knees and delights in the excited sound he makes when he can finally see out of the window. The child burbles and coos, hands reaching out to pat the transparisteel barrier. 

As they descend and the crest heads for a wide clearing in the jungle, it becomes obvious to Corin that Din has been here before; this mid-rim oasis that is nothing more than a small blip on their navichart. He can’t help but wonder how Din ever stumbled across this place. 

They were supposed to meet Cara here. Corin didn’t exactly know why except that it involved a bounty Din had history with, nor does he know why they need Cara for the job, but if it means they can take a few days of rest in this hidden paradise, he would take it. The Empire would always be chasing them, always just one step behind, but Corin can’t help but hope that maybe one day they’ll find a planet Din deems safe enough to just _stay._

“It’s beautiful here,” Corin says, keeping the squirming child on his lap. Though they’ve landed, he’s still looking out of the window, eyes tracing the path of crawling vines, towering trees, and a canopy that grazes the bottom of low hanging clouds. 

“Yes,” Din says, hands moving across the dashboard and powering down the _Crest_. “It is.” He presses a button, and the hyperdrive lets out a low descending whine until it silences completely. 

Corin frowns and turns to meet Din’s visor. Din always kept the hyperdrive running, always kept her engines warm, always kept the _Crest_ primed and ready for a quick escape. They must be planning to stay, to relax, and Corin can’t help but feel like they’ve been graced by good luck. 

Corin begins to undo the buckles securing him and the child to the chair. Once they’re free, Din takes the child from him and holds out a hand to unnecessarily help Corin stand. But of course, Corin takes it anyway, letting himself be pulled up and tucked close. The child chirps happily even though he’s being squeezed between them. Din’s hand wraps around Corin’s waist, his helmet tipping to set against Corin’s forehead in a gentle kov’nyn. 

“Welcome to Sorgan, Ner Kar’ta. There’s some people I’d like you to meet.” The smile is evident in Din’s voice. Corin’s heart jumps to see Din happy. Whatever this place is, it must bring good luck if it makes Din smile. Corin finds that he doesn’t mind blindly following orders if Din is the one giving them. He’d follow Din anywhere as long as he was allowed to stay.

-

Every light notion of good luck crumbles to dust within a few hours after they land. 

Corin knew this day was coming. He knew this waking dream would blow away when the wind changed. He had never expected to keep the man that had stolen the heart from his chest and ground out from under him. 

It doesn’t make it any easier. 

He had told himself, again and again and again. He had been preparing himself for this day from the second their relationship had tipped the line from friends to something more. Corin had _known_. He had known that his hope was nothing more than a broken heart waiting to happen. 

It doesn’t make it any easier. 

Corin can see it from a mile away. The way they move around each other. The way Din leans in and softens. The way his entire body language melts around her. His smile, the bounce in his step, the way he greets her with one hand clasped to her forearm and his other lingering over her shoulder. The way she lights up and laughs at whatever Din had said. The way she kneels to excitedly hug the child that runs to her side. 

Corin hasn’t taken a single step off the ramp, and _he knows_. 

It doesn’t make it any easier. 

Din waves him over, and even now Corin is helpless to obey. He wants to run, to avoid this crushing reality, to hide until he gets over the embarrassment of being so _stupid_ as to believe he could’ve had something permanent. Yet no matter how numb he feels, his feet jump into action. Corin stands by Din’s side, a place he used to belong and where he now realizes he had been nothing more than a temporary replacement.

Her eyes are warm and friendly. Her hand is steady in Corin’s grasp. Her hair flows in a black sheet over her shoulders and down her back. “Hello. I’m Omera.” And even her voice is soothing and silken. 

Corin’s mouth has gone dry; his throat refuses to cooperate with him. “Corin.” The word is broken, and Corin tries to get himself under control, to reign in the drop in his stomach that won’t go away. 

Din’s hand comes up to rest warmly between Corin’s shoulder blades. It’s a crushing blow to his already shattered heart. 

It feels like he’s been thrown out into empty space with a snapped tow line. Like he’s been pushed from a precipice with nothing to catch him at the bottom. Like he’s spiraling spiraling spiraling as the atmosphere steals the breath from his lungs.

Corin realizes he never had a chance. Not against her. Not against all of this.

It doesn’t make it any easier. 

-

“Cara isn’t back yet,” Omera informs them as they begin to unload the boxes brought down from the _Crest_. “She got caught up with old connections. She commed me yesterday saying she would be a few days late. Something about another job.” She looks to Corin and winks. “You know how it is. They’re always running off somewhere.”

It takes him a moment to realize she’s talking about Din. Corin tries for his best laugh and hopes that it covers the hole in his chest. 

-

Corin does what he can to make himself useful. 

If he’s useful, maybe they’ll keep him around. Maybe he can delay the inevitable for a few days longer. Luckily for him, there’s always something to be done on the farm. He’s met with cheerful smiles and happy greetings and dozens of people grateful for another set of hands. 

He learns their names. He learns their stories. He cares for their children and babysits a child that he used to be able to call his own. 

He watches from a distance as Omera leaves lingering touches to beskar armor and chats with Din as though it was easy. As though Corin didn’t have to work for every word. 

With every minute they stay on Sorgan, Corin can feel the soft reassuring words from the cabin growing more and more distant. The words whispered into his skin as they huddled together for warmth. The praises sung in his name as they moved together, and Corin had believed for a moment, for a fleeting minute, that maybe, _maybe,_ it could’ve all be true. 

But the truth is a harsh one. And it comes with an innocent smile, and the offer of a peaceful life that Corin could never provide. 

Corin swallows and tears his eyes away from the pair working together repairing a weather worn wall. He looks down at the child in his arms and bounces him a little higher on his hip. 

“Well kiddo.” Corin’s smile is soft but the burning behind his eyes betrays his true emotions. “It was fun while it lasted.” 

The child gives a sad coo, head tilting to the side in confusion. 

Corin presses a kiss to the peach fuzz and then sets the child down and pats him along to the direction of the children. “Go play. I'm fine.” 

With a last longing look, the child turns and runs off to join the chase for a frog. 

-

Din doesn’t come to bed until later that night. After the child has already been put to sleep. After Corin has already tucked into his side of the single bed they’d been given. 

Corin is awake the second he hears the quiet creak of the outer door, but he feigns sleep in the hopes that Din will spare him the pain for just one last night. One last night where Corin can feel those arms around him. One last night where Corin can pretend he’s loved and safe and belongs. 

There’s the muffled tinkle of metal against metal as Din tries his best to remove his armor without waking the child. Corin hears a contented sigh and then the bed dips with the weight of another body settling in next to him. 

“You awake?” A whisper, hardly more than a breath.

 _No._ His mind screams. Corin wants to keep his eyes shut. He wants to lay perfectly still. He wants to pretend, oh please just let him pretend for one minute more. 

Just one more. 

“Corin?” 

Corin’s eyes open, and he hopes the shadow conceals the redness in his eyes and the dampness still stuck to his cheeks. He tries to keep the evidence out of his voice. “I’m here.” _I’ll always be here._

Din sighs again, almost in relief, like there had been something weighing on him and hearing Corin’s voice had lifted that from him. 

Din lays back on the bed and pulls Corin closer. He wraps an arm around his waist and tucks his helmet against the back of Corin’s neck. 

Corin lets himself be held, knowing it might be for the last time, and settles back against the warmth of Din’s chest. 

“Sorry, I was so late.” Corin can feel the apology rumble against his shoulders as it’s dragged from Din’s chest. 

_Guilt._ Corin can hear it in every word. _What is he hiding?_ They shift together that much closer, and Corin shivers with every heavy puff of air from under the helmet. “I got caught up talking to Omera.”

Corin’s chest lurches but he pushes it to the side before his eyes can start burning again. “It's fine.” 

But as much as he tries to keep the hurt from his voice it must not work well enough because Din is moving, raising up on an elbow to look down at Corin. “You alright?”

Unable to look up into the visor without breaking down, Corin let’s his eyes drift shut, almost like he’s trying to sleep. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

The words do nothing to reassure and Din continues to hover. “Cyare-“

“Don’t.” _Don’t lie to me._ Corin can’t do it. He can’t hear the denials and the false hopes. He can’t listen to Din tell him he loved him when it was so painfully obvious what was really going on. Corin can't hear Din lie to him. Because then all the words, the memories, all the things Corin has left to hang on to would be nothing more than lies too. 

“I’m alright.” Corin wants to spare Din the guilt. Wants to spare himself the embarrassment of heartbreak. Wants to make it easier for both of them to just _let go._

Din deserves better. Deserves this life. Deserves peace for himself and the child. 

Corin can't give him that, but he won’t stand in the way of letting Din be happy. 

When it becomes obvious that Corin doesn’t want to, _can’t,_ talk, Din settles back down. The hand around Corin’s waist pulls him closer until there’s no space left between them.

Corin doesn’t sleep. He spends the entire night staring at the wall in front of him, yet he dreams of a life he was so close to having.

-

The thing is, as much as he wants to, as much as he tries to make himself, Corin can’t hate her. 

Omera is as kind as she is beautiful. She’s gentle with Corin. She lets him know when she’s behind him so she doesn’t startle him, as though she knows the trauma of his past. She makes sure to add a bit extra to his plate, as though she can tell he’s been starving for most of his life. She compliments the work he does as though she can see he’s never been praised for doing well. 

And the worst part is not the way she takes care of the kid better than he ever could. Or the way she sets a plate aside for Din without being asked. Or the way she is slowly taking Corin’s place. 

The worst part is that Corin never stood a chance. 

Omera brings peace and prosperity. Stability. A better, happier, life than one spent always on the move. Omera could give Din a family, a real one. Not whatever disjointed mess the three of them had had. Din would finally be free of the burdens and bad luck Corin dragged around with him. 

It was better this way. Din would be happier. Corin won’t stand in the way of that.

-

Corin tries to cover his yawn, the result of another sleepless night. The last thing he needs is anyone trying to mother him. He doesn’t know if he can handle the pitying glances when it’s all revealed that they never really cared about him at all. 

He hands Omera the clean dish for her to dry as he gets started on the next one from the after-dinner pile. The conversation between them flows steadily. She’s the easiest person to talk to that Corin has ever met. 

Yet when there’s a lull between one topic and the next, Corin finds his mind racing with doubts and fear that the next words from her mouth will be his dismissal. He doesn’t know if it will be better or worse to hear it from her instead of Din. 

“He loves you, you know.”

The plate in Corin's hand nearly shatters as it slips from his grasp and back into the soapy water. “Kriff- I’m sorry. I-“ Corin frantically fishes through the bubbles and is relieved to find the plate whole and unbroken. 

Omera just chuckles and knocks their shoulders together. “If the kids can't break ‘em, I’d like to see you try.”

Corin smiles back at her and shakes his head, trying to bring himself back down to earth. He couldn’t have heard her right. 

“I’m serious,” she says. And this time Corin stops washing and looks up at her. This is it. This has to be her twisted way of letting him down easy. This is where she tells him to leave. He sucks in a breath and holds it, waiting for his world to come crashing down around him. 

“He loves you more than he ever might’ve loved me.” 

Corin blinks. He’s not quite sure how to respond to that. How _does_ someone respond to that? This isn’t how he thought this was going to go. He doesn’t understand. 

Omera shrugs and looks down, continuing to dry her dish. “I can see it in the way he looks at you.” 

But when Corin hasn’t responded, she looks back up at him. With a fond hand on his shoulder she says, “Don’t doubt yourself so much. And don’t doubt the way he feels about you either. You’re both meant for each other.”

A weight lifts. Grief and heartache and doubt and insecurity drop from Corin’s shoulders. He feels like he can breathe for the first time in days. Hope, weak and feeble, crawls its way back into his heart. He can’t help but think _maybe maybe maybe_. 

His voice is broken and hardly audible. “Thank you.” And he wonders if Omera knows the gift she has given him. 

-

Later that night, when Din settles in behind him, molding himself to the shape of Corin’s back and acting as a wall between their happiness and the worries of the outside world, Corin turns in Din’s arms to face him. He leans forward to press a chaste kiss on the visor over where Din’s mouth should be and tilts his head forward, trying to make eye contact through the visor as he holds their kov’nyn.

“I love you,” Corin whispers, and a voice in his head whispers back that even now he could still be rejected. After days and nights of reaffirmations. After his talk with Omera. After everything they had been through. 

The vulnerability and insecurity he feels must be reflected in his eyes because Corin can't explain the way Din suddenly surges forward and pins him to the mattress. 

Din’s hands wander but his helmet stays tucked into Corin’s neck and under his chin. The words spill from Din’s mouth endlessly repeating, “ _I love you. I love you. I love you.”_

Corin is extremely grateful Winta had begged to keep the kid for the night. 

-

Cara arrives on Sorgan three days after Din, Corin, and the child. 

She hasn’t so much as landed the ship before she comes racing out, bypassing Din completely, and swooping Omera up in her arms. 

Corin watches with amusement as Cara swings Omera in a circle. They’re laughing the whole way, and Cara sets her down just long enough to take a breath before she’s pulling Omera in for a deep kiss, dipping her back and starting a second round of laughter.

_“Oh.”_

It’s the only thing Corin can say. And then he starts to laugh. _Of course_. 

Din puts a hand on the back of his neck, squeezing gently. Corin looks up into his visor and leans into the contact. The child in Corin’s arms coos happily, tapping little claws against his chest plate. 

In the shared happiness of that moment, Corin wonders why he had ever doubted his place here. 

-

**_Two days earlier._ **

“I need your help.” Din hates this. He knows he’ll never hear the end of it from Omera or Cara, but he doesn’t know where else to go. 

“Oh?” Omera smiles and raises an eyebrow. Her expression turned cheeky. Din wants to turn back now before he makes it any worse for himself. But he can’t. He has to do this for Corin. 

“Corin. He- I-“ Din wants to hate the way those blue eyes have turned him into a blubbering mess. He takes a breath and tries again, pointedly ignoring the knowing smile Omera is directing his way. “I’ve tried the Mandalorian way. But I don’t think he understands.” 

“You mean you haven’t told him that the armor is actually an engagement present.” It’s not a question. Omera knows damn well Din couldn’t talk about himself or how he felt unless someone held a gun to his head. “How is he supposed to know if you don’t tell him?”

Din grumbles to himself, not letting Omera have the satisfaction of knowing she was right. Having his emotional ineptitude rubbed in his face is not why he’s here. “I want to show him how much he means to me. In his way. But I don’t know how.” 

Din knows a hundred different cultures have a hundred different ways of showing their love. He doesn’t even know where to begin. And the last thing he wants to do is mess this up. 

Din was too young to remember the traditions of his birth planet, and Corin had never spoken much of his life from before he was a trooper. If there was a stormtrooper way to show affection, Din had never learned it, and worse, he had no way of asking without embarrassing himself to the entire castle of defectors. 

Omera tilts her head to the side. “Have you tried asking him?”

Din shoots a glare in her direction. The same glare that had made bounties quiver in their boots and clients to raise their payment by thousands. Omera laughs in his face.

“I’m sorry!” She says, trying to stifle her giggles. “I’m sorry. Okay. I’m sorry.” She gathers herself and takes a sip from the mug resting in her hands. 

They’re both quiet for a moment while she thinks. The dragging silence grates on Din’s nerves as he waits with his heart in her hands. 

She hums, an idea coming to her, as she sets the mug to the side. “They exchange rings on Coruscant.” 

Din frowns. “He’s not from Coruscant.” In all honesty, Din has absolutely no idea where Corin is from, but wherever it is must be tainted with unpleasant memories. Din knows better than to ask. 

“Maybe not,” Omera concedes. “But he’s from the Inner Rim no matter how hard he tries to hide that accent.” She waves her hand as if all of this should be obvious. 

And yes, Din had noticed the subtle lilt to Corin’s words, wouldn’t be any good at his job if he hadn’t, but it was another thing he couldn’t ask about. 

Omera continues, piecing the parts together. “Even if the rings aren’t his tradition, he’ll know what they mean. They’ll be familiar to him. And then he’ll understand what you’re trying to say since you’re too thick to just tell him.”

Din ignores the jab and instead reaches forward to clasp Omera’s hand. “Thank you.”

She snorts into her mug as she lifts it to take another sip. “Uh huh. Just do some research first before you go handing him a tied up piece of string or whatever other practical nonsense you come up with.”

But Din is already halfway out of the door with a hundred and one ideas bouncing around in his head.


End file.
